The long winter
by ClearClaire
Summary: A cold and rainy winter. A dark and dangerous story. A movie.
1. Chapter 1

**THE LONG WINTER**

_My life. A screen_

_My food. Pictures_

_My air. Words_

_None Filmmaker_

A late October afternoon. A residential area of a east coast city. A polished neoclassic building. A salon warmed up by ebony and ancient oriental silk. The three pieces suit heard the door closing behind himself and, with a few steady steps, headed for the sofa. Little more than a mattress covered with several layers of cushions. Feathers of some bird threatened with extinction, certainly. The last rays of sunlight were playing with the crystal drops of a chandelier, and drawing arabesques on the coffee table. The man, legs indifferently crossed, was pursuing the lines intertwining, arms left on the embroidered back. Something. The curtains. They were...amber, last time. From a distance, the rustling of trees fondled by the wind. The man closed his eyes, deeply sighing. A silent figure stood out behind him, where at first have been carpets and a tactful lavender scent.

"Li. It's lovely to see you"

"It's always a pleasure to have you in my humble residence. Rarely it welcomes somebody who can actually appreciate its sweetnesses"

"I see your little family is grown"

"Uh..."

The man lifted a tiny silver object from a sideboard. Louis XV, probably.

"Just something I found out during the last trip. It was resting in a neglected warehouse. It was meant to keep the Taj Mahal lady company, but owner and cub have been so far for a very long time, I just don't think she'll be offended" Li grinned, showing the elephantine shape of the object "an enchanting story. Have you ever heard of it?"

"I don't think so"

"Then, if you don't mind, I'll tell you" the figure, with oriental features, drew near the coffee table "in the great India, before the English people taught polo and thug hunt, a maharajah ruled in justice and peace a rich country. He owned elephants and treasures, and he was favored by the gods. But his karma had predestined his loneliness, and his beloved spouse died after a short time of delight, without the gift of an heir. India is a country of contradictions, of monuments and slums, of temples and castes. The maharajah built a palace, for his lady. A marble and gold palace that could be admired even from the sacred river springs, and where she could wait for the next turn of the life wheel"

"Taj Mahal" the dark suit man whispered, accepting from Li the cup of mint tea.

"Exactly. A sacred place, before becoming a tourist postcard"

"Enchanting indeed" the guest said, following with his fingertips the relief cup decoration.

Li, in the meantime, had stood up "The lady won't be offended" he keep on repeating as a mantra, dropping the little elephant in its place again. "Here it is" he ended, with a last caress.

"An other cup? It's a special blend"

"Have you left your Darjeeling?"

"Never. A friend of mine gave me a small selection, and I want to share it with a connoisseur"

"It's excellent, even tough I prefer the Chinese ones"

"Yeah. An other something I just can't repudiate about my country" Li said, staring into space.

"Anyway. What do you have for me? I think our next meeting was due in two months"

"Something could really interest you" a strange gloom filled the room: the light fingertips of nightfall now become claws "the wind is bringing an other voice, in this time that open the great cold gates"

Scratches of paleness wounded now the void face of the three pieces suit man.

"Damn"


	2. Chapter 2

I know, I know. I don't own them and I'll never do. Humour me, please. It can seem crazy, but the story is slowly developing, and I swear there is so much to see, to read, to live...all you have to do is: be patient and review, review, review! I hope you like it!

* * *

_I cautiously opened the anonymous door that hid the little dark reality from the outer world._

0900 EST

DAY 1

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH VIRGINIA

"Excuse me, sir? I think I just don't understand"

"You understood me perfectly, Commander"

Till that moment, staff meeting had seemed to be going off smoothly. Till that moment. The Admiral cursed himself for have been lured again, but straightened himself and got ready to deal with the questions. And to supply with the arranged answers.

"Although I dislike it, more or less two days from now my office will be immobilized and turned into a movie set. Again"

"But..."

"Let me end this, Colonel" AJ retorted, with anger "the Department of Defense, looking for funds and publicity, announced a young directors contest. As you know the Congress is debating Iraq campaign financing, and, if I can be frank, things are not...well...anyway, the best subject about the military arrived to the panel won budget, locations and actors for the movie. Well, Tiner is distributing you the subject. Location will be JAG HQ. And all of you are engaged. The directors will be here for screen tests at 1100 sharp. Be helpful"

"Sir..."

"That's an order. Dismissed"

The admiral stood up and marched towards his office, leaving a room full of very puzzled JAG attorneys.


	3. Chapter 3

**I know, the chapter is short. Translation is really troublesome, so...longer or faster, that is the question! But don't be afraid, next chapters will be more...sparkling. I swear! Thank you for reviews and suggestions. I'm really glad you do like it, but please, let me know about any error, or about your opinions, and I'll listen to you (promptly. Sorry, but these days I was on a warm, sunny beach...;))**

* * *

_A thick blanket of smoke prevented me from seeing the ceiling, while the soft bluish light was calling my attention to the farthest end of the room._

1100 EST

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH VIRGINIA

"Well, guys. This is JAG HQ, I'm Lieutenant Simms, and till the shots end you can speak to me for whatever doubt or request. I know you deserved this opportunity, so all of us will be happy to help you. If you can, just don't hold up the work, please"

In the office, Harm and Bud, curious, saw those who definitely were three students of some California university school of cinematic arts, getting in the bullpen.

"How does that wife of yours manage to be always so...sweet-natured? What does she have for breakfast? Concentrated sugar?"

"Well...sir..." an embarrassed Lieutenant Roberts began.

"I want it too" the Commander told himself "let's go, while we've enough time to"

The two of them quietly stood up and put on hats and coats. Hopefully, they would have taken to flight unnoticed.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The flight way had already been blocked. By the shape, quite amused, of Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie.

"Well...Mac...You know...that investigation..."

"No, I don't know _that_ investigation. Why don't you refresh my memory, Commander?" with the best cross-examination tone, Mac got in the office and approached Harm till she was deliberately menacing his personal space. The cocky-aviator-lawyer now was drawing back, towards his own desk safety.

"Maac!"

"Just one "a", Harm. And your only investigation, as I remember, is about a teleprompter and a prop man. Now, if you don't want to put all of us on AJ's blacklist, I suggest you...TWO" she went on, with a glare at the Lt trying and camouflaging himself "following myself in the bullpen. Now. The sooner this masquerade comes to an end, the faster we come back to the old, healthy art. 92"

With these words, Mac did a perfect about-turn and made for Harriet, shaking her head.

Exchanging knowing looks, Harm and Bud unwillingly dropped everything and followed her in the bullpen.

"Good. Commander, you're always the same, I guess" the Admiral barked in the middle of the little crowd "now that _all_ of them are here, guys, I grant custody of my subordinates to you. Don't let them becoming too swollen-headed. I'll be in my office" and he took refuge behind a well closed door and a solid oak desk: his past experiences with show business hadn't been really so good.

Harriet kept under control the situation again and started introducing the several officers to the "troupe".

"Here they are, the JAG staff. I really don't know what you're looking for, so I'll introduce everybody. If you need other room or further performances, don't hesitate to ask for" then she spoke to the colleagues "Sirs and Ma'ames, these are our new superiors" she grinned "Jake Griffith, Melanie Godard and Steven Coppola"

"And no way. I'm not a Francis Ford's relative. Unfortunately" the last burst out, with an almost automatic reflex "I really said that out loud?"

An awkward silence was the only answer.


	4. Chapter 4

**I beg your pardon: I don't know American legalese very well and I really don't know Supreme Court sentencing, so...don't sue me: I don't know what do you mean! ;) Anyway, new chapter today! Let me know if you like it or if you find awful mistakes!**

**Well...if you want to know, they're not what you think they're, but identical twuins, so I can own them! Yeah, right...**

* * *

_A liquid feeling of danger kept flowing down my veins. Bad sign, my instinct never failed me._

1400 EST

KITCHENETTE

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH VIRGINIA

"Well, when do you plan on throwing in the sponge and beg a plea bargain?"

"Why should I do such a thing?" Harm resentfully answered.

"Because Seaman Foer is guilty as a child with his own hands in the cookie jar?"

"No, Ma'am! That is...I'm sorry, Ma'am...Colonel, that is...what I want to say..."

"Breathe, Bud. You're turning blue"

"Of course Ma'am, yes Ma'am...what I want to say is, the defendant isn't considered guilty till the verdict, in accordance with 134 Supreme Court, 1, 23-26 (1965), Ma'am"

"Did you hear it, Mac? Even Supreme Court said that" the Commander told her, shaking his coffee spoon in the air.

"OK, let's define him defendant..."

Getting in the kitchen and making resolute for the coffee pot, Sturgis whispered to Harriet "Is it long since it's been going on?"

"No Sir, you've been losing nothing" the Ensign answered in the same soft voice, handing him another pot "that's fresh"

"Thanks" Sturgis nodded. Pouring the coffee in a mug, he settled down near the woman and prepared to enjoy the show in the front row.

"...anyway, Seaman Foer was found, at two a.m., drunk, out of a nightclub" Mac continued.

"And last I checked, this wasn't a crime"

"Of course, Commander. The point is, once ordered him to go back to his barracks, so he could be just in time for flag-raising ceremony, he answered, and I quote "the one flag I see in the morning is the one I hanged on my bathroom wall, and since then I haven't been suffering from constipation". In my opinion this sing contempt. And last I checked, _it_ was a crime"

"Bud, could you explain to the Colonel..."

Three people cautiously entered the cramped room. According to the janitor they probably would have found most of the officers in there, at that time.

"Ahem...sorry...Sirs..." Melanie began, immediately cut short by Harm.

"Please, let's drop ranks and sirs, shall we? Unless you want the salute every time, considering you technically are our new COs..." he said, causing the girl's bright red face and the others' wild giggles "call me Harm, please. They're Mac, Harriet, Bud and Sturgis"

"Melanie"

"Jake"

"Steven"

"Better, isn't it?" the Commander grinned, and Melanie blushed even more.

"Harm, stop embarrassing her!" Mac scolded him, before addressing the girl "forgive him. He thinks grin and gold wings can get him everywhere, but he's a good kid, after all"

"Thank you, _mom_" he muttered, with a grimace and an hurt look "and when would you have found out it?"

"When _you _found out it doesn't work with every female. Namely the undersigned"

"Wasted time, anyway"

"Commander!" Mac menacingly hissed.

The guys exchanged knowing looks and picked the ball before the situation could worsen any more.

"Ahem...Harm...Mac..."

Suddenly the two of them realized they were surrounded by awkward faces, and burst out laughing.

"Here we are, the MacKenzie-Rabb Show..." the Commander began, sarcastic, immediately replaced by his colleague's giggles "...that is, Harm put two feet in his mouth again!"

"Not anybody could do it, you have to grant me" he said, giving the crowd a clumsy bow.

"That's for sure..."

"Truce? Dinner?"

Amidst the stunned looks, Mac's only answer was a wary "Harm..."

"I know. No meatloaf"

Rolling their eyes, they dragged laughters from everybody again.

Harriet, hardly recovered, curious addressed Melanie.

"After this interlude I hope didn't make you change your minds, folks, tell us. Would you ask us something? I was thinking we wouldn't have to see you till tomorrow"

"Well...actually, yes. But if we're interrupting, we can come back later" Jake took the floor.

"Don't worry, it's nothing to do with homeland security" Mac cut him off "Harm was only trying and delaying the inevitable with some legal tricks, as usual"

"But..."

"Ush" she silenced him "don't interrupt! Don't you see he's speaking?" It was no use arguing a marine. It was no use arguing Mac, period. A shrug and a defeated grimace gave Steven the go-ahead.

"We casted the parts and would give you the scripts"

"That was quick!"

"At least they're nothing like Ms. Peterson!"

The remark gained Bud a glare, but his wife saved the day again "Tell us, tell us! I can't wait!"

"Well...it will be a...a quite experimental movie...so every night we will give you the next day lines. Is that all right?"

"Don't worry. Usually the Admiral give us no time at all!"

"Good. The story begins in London, 1942. You, Harm, will be an US Navy pilot..."

At Mac's sigh, Jake hastened adding "We tried and followed reality as much, so you shouldn't have difficulty in identifying yourselves with your characters"

"The problem is, Harm doesn't have any difficulty in identifying himself with a cocky chauvinist pilot!"

"Whatever. Anyway, the pilot belongs to OSS, Office of the Strategic Service, and he's in London because of Operation Benson, looking for informations about German emplacements across the Channel. Some night he goes to a nightclub where he should meet his informer. Female informer. You, Mac..."

"Wow! Who should I be? A Nazi double-dealer officer?"

"Well...that is...certainly double-dealer, but...practically...there wasn't any female officer in the military, during World War II" Melanie immediately disappointed her "practically, your character is that of the nightclub singer. That is... a spy...sort of...who seduces our pilot..."

In the general silence, Mac could only exhale "Come again?"

"In a moment of "weakness", practically, she manages to worm out important informations about the Allied Powers plans, then she disappears. That is...it was suggested by our historical adviser"

"And who is he?" Harm burst out.

"Me" a voice answered, followed at once by a well-known, flawless, three pieces suit "and before you can ask, OSS was embryo for what in '47 would become CIA"

"WEBB?"

Bewildered, Harm and Mac didn't even realize they have been shouting at the same time.

"Quite crowded in here"

"'Afternoon, Mr Webb" Steven welcomed him, then, curious "did you know each other?"

"No"

"Yes"

"I should have thought about this" Mac sighed.

"What are you doing here?" her colleague growled.

"Advising, what else?" the spy answered with an angelic smile.

"Mr Webb is an historian from Georgetown. He personally took care of the subject background"

"I guess you launched even in science fiction"

"Have you meet before?" Steven asked them, wondering what kind of connection could possibly be set up by an historian and the Judge Advocate General's office.

"Unfortunately..." Harm began, immediately cut off by the spook "Unfortunately, never enough. But, in case of need, I know I'm always their first, and only, choice"

"That's for sure..."

"After all, there aren't a whole lot of us who choose Navy History"

Webb took advantage of the consequent burst of laughters and attracted the senior officers' attention.

"Mac, Rabb, can I talk to you two, in private?"

"Absolutely" the harsh answer was, while he was striding, uninvited, towards the office.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here we are. New chapter...we're slowly approaching action. Very slowly, I know, but be trusting and keep on reading: hopefully you'll be satisfied, in the end. For the time being...thank you thank you thank you, readers, reviewers and fill in with your name . All of you. Thanks.**

**Yeah...I don't own them...but if I could borrow that cute Lt. Aldridge...one night...have a thing for glasses and shy guys...please... **

* * *

_Silent ad invisible, I took a seat at a small table, the wall behind my shoulders. One way less to watch._

1430 EST

HARM'S OFFICE

JAG HEADQUARTERS

"So, Webb?"

"So what, Rabb?"

"In the meanwhile, would you mind keeping your hands off my chair?"

The agent, after self-inviting in his office, had comfortably sat down behind his desk.

"Have your mother ever told you about offering the best to a guest?"

"Offering, that's it. And I have a few doubts about the guest part"

A door slamming told them a quite annoyed marine had only just joined the conversation.

"So, Webb?"

"Do you steal each other's lines, now? You know, you could make a nice pair"

"WEBB?!" two threatening voices rose, straight away soothed by his expression.

"This is what the audience wants"

"And when would you have become a sociologist, or an historian, as far as I'm concerned?"

"Even because Georgetown sweatshirt is definitely not your uniform"

"CIA, or do the best you can" Webb shrugged, nosing into the desk owner's furnishings "nice picture, Rabb" he ironically went on studying the picture taken only few months before "Iraq?"

"Afghanistan" the commander cut him off, grasping the frame and placing it on the desk with maniacal accuracy "now, would you mind explaining to poor mortals what secret service has to do with...with this?" he ended with an eloquent wave.

"I would think you'd like to put on airs, after the Peterson's commercial"

"Don't remind me about it..."

"So?" Mac insisted "if I'll have to strip I want to know the reason. And make it damn good, Webb!"

Harm froze, thunderstruck by that sentence meaning. He didn't know whether he felt pleased or terrified, facing the wild marine.

"No, no, no" the spook retreated, destroying his dreams "if we're lucky, we won't need your performance"

Furrowing her brow, Mac spelt, barely holding back "Given your luck, I really feel better"

"Well..."

"At least could you look away, please? So? What do you want Harm and me to do this time?" the look in the men's eyes telling her to add "apart from the obvious"

"Actually, it's quite simple. We found out somebody is selling information from this office..."

"FROM JAG?"

"Yeah, just so"

"What kind of information?"

"In great demand kind. Information about international investigation. Terrorism and illegal weapons trade. Since you have been cooperating with CIA, you're getting more and more...tasty"

"Do you mind not talking about us as walking beefsteaks, please? I thought the agency worked out of the country"

"The buyer...let's say he found the perfect domicile, as far as we're concerned..."

"What?"

"An embassy" Harm whispered.

"Luckily, he's a sensible businessman, and for a fair offer he sold us everything, but we took advantage of the movie – or rather, we manipulated the competition – infiltrating our people in the troupe. The subject felt...right, given our situation. What you'll have to do is trying and finishing the filming without losing your minds, while the agents find out the mole and make him or her "disappear" without more ado"

"Is that all?"

"I'm sorry, Rabb. This time you won't play Superman. Now, if you want to excuse me..."

With a fluid motion result of years long training, Clayton Webb left the office and disappeared. As if he'd never been there.

Silence. Two sets of eyes. One mind.

"Harm. No. I know that look. No. Although I want to prevent this. No"

"What, Mac?" the commander innocently asked her.

"They're already working on it"

"Two minds more won't hurt"

"Why are you taking for granted that I'll join you?"

"You haven't walked away yet, right?"

Mac didn't answered back. She limited herself to following in Webb's footsteps and leaving the room, without turning back.

"This night, my home?"

And she knew she would have to fear the worst.


	6. Chapter 6

**Translator's block...sorry. Anyway, yeah, here we are with a new, wonderful chapter! Humor me here: as the author, I have to advertise my...whatever it is! I was talking about...nothing...well, maybe I've run out of it, so...thank you for feedback and please, let me know what do you think, especially if you think I should take up knitting!**

**As usual, I own all of them, even though nobody will ever know. Keep it under your hat, please!**

* * *

_Looking around, I noticed the nightclub still almost empty. Probably too early, for rush hour. In spite of the recent bombardments, I knew that as one of the most popular places in the city, as soon as curfew descended on the grip of frost of new 1943. That, and Lady Henderson's theater._

1900 EST

HARM'S APARTMENT

NORTH OF UNION STATION

The clock on the desk was whistling the seventh trill, when the light blow on the the door scolded him again. Harm quickly put on a t-shirt and, bare-footed, went down the few steps leading to the "living room". The large space was suffused with light and jazz music, and the last corpses of the weekly evening work – takeaway pizza, frozen Pekinese food and a collection of fifty years old Supreme Court's sentences – had thoroughly disappeared. Checked the last points of his mental list, the commander finally approached the threshold, where the knocking was getting quite insistent.

"I'm coming!"

"Open this door! I'm here!"

"I always know where you are" he warmly answered, half-opening the door.

"By chance you always know where my ombrella is, too, don't you? It's pouring" Mac spoke ironically, getting rid of her raincoat with a shiver "We aren't keeping to the schedule, are we?" she asked, after a quick glance, sliding in the room.

"Uh...I wouldn't say that...why?"

"I'm undecided: wet hair or you not wearing those oven gloves...what were they? Crabs?"

"Lobsters"

"Well...anyway, it smells nice, I grant you"

"Thank you. It must be the aftershave" Harm said, careless.

"The food, I mean. Asparagus and..." trying and catching a glimpse of the oven beyond his shoulder "salmon?"

"You eat junk food, but surely can acknowledge a good dish!"

"Yeah. But give up all hope. You won't talk me into helping you with a scrap of nouvelle cuisine"

"Well, as for it, I was relying on my own unique charm..."

"Aren't we a little confident here, this night?"

"...and on your curiosity" Harm ended. Mac put her raincoat, which she had been fiddling with, on a chair and joined him near the stove.

"If you want some water, there is a bottle in the fridge. By now, it should be cool enough" he offered, while checking the fish browning.

"You don't need such a deployment. A pizza would do it"

"I haven't made a promise I can't keep, yet. Anyway, how do you know it isn't Pierre's, the new, true D.C. French takeaway?"

"Uh...interesting...I'll ponder over it, counselor"

"Yeah, but afterwards. Dinner is ready"

When only memoires, of the dutiful salmon, had remained "Very good. I admit I'll have to revalue fish..." talk reached the first subject of the meeting "...but before you launch into the umpteenth healthy food lesson, why don't you tell me what you are going to do?"

"What am I going to do?"

"Yes. About the mole. At this point, I wouldn't recognize you, if you haven't found out a trail...or an inspiration, as you call it"

"Aahh...that. To begin" he said, standing up and heading for the stove, where the coffee was now happily singing "do you think we sholud tell the admiral?"

"Now, I really don't recognize you!" Mac went on, following him, and grabbed two mugs from the top shelf of a cupboard "I don't know. Probably he's got his hands tied, but I can quite picture him: folded harms, knife between his teeth "That's my damn office, damn it. And if there is a damn sneak ransacking my damn baskets..."

"...I want know about it, damn"

Mac, after Harm's imitation, almost chocked on the coffee, but two adjusted slaps brought her among the living, still giggling "Some damn less, but that is the idea...by the way..."

"Checked. After Gunny's outburst, the classified records basket has always been kept under surveillance, in Tiner's office. This way hypothesis number one blows up"

"Tell me there is a number two, please"

"You underestimate me, colonel"

"So?"

"Do you mind if we move this to a more comfortable place?" then Harm asked, taking their cups that, after the little respiratory fit, were pausing onto the counter, and headed for the couch.

"You won't hear me complain" Mac answered, unlacing her shoes and squatting down, with confidence born of use, at the right end of the couch, whereas the partner sat down nearby, stretching out his legs over the coffee table. On synchrony, the two of them brought their cups to the lips and sipped the warm liquid a few moments, in companionable silence. No use blowing its surface – that Mac had checked every day of her life, well, adult life – even if it had been really hot, it was a disastrous device. Whatever forcefulness she had applied to the blast, whatever inclination she had calculated, coffee had scalded her anyway, and her taste buds had lost functionality until the next day. Maybe it was because of this, that she drank so strong black coffee. To her, it was hardly aromatic...

"Outsider"

Snatched from her moka-elaborations, Mac only could gurgle, "What?", surprised.

"The only hypothesis I can stand. Our mole is an outsider. A borrowed officer, a part-time clerk from some office who took the opportunity and rounded out his income"

"Impossible" "Why?"

"Succeeding in gaining access to information and passwords would take too long, before the end of a time contract"

"Well, we have just run out of nice explanations"

"He has to be an insider"

"But who? And where?"

"I can't make myself think about it. It's...It's awful"

"Tomorrow we'll ask Bud for a personnel list. We need to know life, death and miracles of any cleaner in JAG HQ. Even better, I'm calling him now" the commander resolutely exclaimed, springing to his feet, and grasped the cordless resting on the table.

"Harm, but...they aren't classified information, are they?"

"Bud will have some tricks...here he is" he gestured to her to fall silent, as soon as he heard the drowsy voice at the other end of the line "Bud, hello! Sorry about the time, I know AJ is keeping you awake at night...yes...I understand...no, nothing serious...well, we were wondering...yes, the colonel is here with me...could you do us a favour? It's quite urgent...by tomorrow morning...we need a list of personnel at JAG HQ in the last..." he inquiringly turned his eyes to Mac, looking for confirmation "six months? Yes. Every personal file? Bud, you're a mindreader! So, can we count on you? Thank you again...say hello to Harriet and little AJ...see you tomorrow"


	7. Chapter 7

**Dlin dlon, a new chapter is going on, and if it is something you can't bear, of course you shouldn't be here. But if you are patient and read, even a crazy rhyme your fun won't forbid.**

**I need a shrink, definitely.**

**Thank you for feedback and advice, really thank you.**

**Again, I don't own them. Why do I have to twist the knife in the wound every damn time?**

* * *

_A silent waitress put a pint on the greasy wood and disappeared, after getting my change. I was out of uniform, and I would have roused suspicion carrying a more nourished wallet._

1000 EST

DAY 5

"THE LONG WINTER" SET

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH VIRGINIA

"Has everybody learnt their cues? Can we start? Well, with me..."

"SHIT!"

"Shit!"

"S-H-I-T!"

Harriet felt the blushing coming on. She wasn't a demure convent girl, of course, but she didn't think the admiral would appreciate that. But, after all, luck rituals in the Navy could be ever so much worse! It was the first day of shooting, and, given the uncommon not rainy day (sun would be an excessive claim for Virginia, that November), set had been prepared outside. They had planned a few bridging scenes, and the rehearsal of the captain's rescue scene. To begin identifying themselves with the characters and getting used to those work conditions. Till that moment, everything had been right. The night before, she had gave out scripts for the day with Tiner. She didn't understand this experimental film stuff: as a good administrative official, she liked having everything taken into account and registered, but she trusted the kids. They were the experts!  
Heading for them with a tray covered with bagels and cups of steaming coffee, stopped a moment discussing the last details with the security officers. She hardly noticed it, when the weight of the tray was delicately lifted from her hands.

"Easy, lieutenant, or we'll see your maternity leave starting ahead of time!"

"Thanks, sir. Don't worry, sir. I was just..."

"Making everything perfect, Harriet, I know"

Struck dumb by the compliment, Lieutenant Simms hardly managed to nod to the commander's morning grin.

"Where do you need this to be taken?"

"What, sir?"

"The tray"

Looking at the puzzled glance, Harriet recovered consciousness and standard elocution rate. That is, too fast even for a bunch of lawyers.

"Yes, sir. The tray, sir. Leave it to me, sir. I was about to bring it to the kids..."

"Kids?"

"The directors, sir. Please, leave it to me. In a minute it'll be done. Would you like some coffee, too? Do you need a file? I know, I should have brought you that dossier about stationery thefts, I'm sorry, sir, I'll see right now..."

"Calm down, Harriet, calm down. Breath in. Breathe out. Again. Very good. Regard the tray as delivered. The "kids" must be hungry, if I guess right and you have kept them running from dawn. Now, take a seat and have a bagel. Nobody will be offended, and your baby needs it"

Harm played the pregnancy card well. He knew that was the only to lead the overexcited lieutenant back to her mind.

"But, sir..."

"No buts. That's an order. And on the set I'm not "sir", but captain...what's his name?"

"Mcbride, si...sorry!"

"thanks. Better. Today, your only tasks will be rest and tell me over and over again whatever name that damn captain is, ok? I learned by heart whole codes, but I'm not able to grasp that name, really. Now excuse-moi, madame, but the new waiter have some delivering to do" after a few steps, yet, Harm suddenly turned back "Harriet?"

"Yes, captain Mcbride?"

"Yeah...whatever. By chance did you see the colonel?"

"I didn't, captain Mcbride"

"don't go too far, now" he grimaced "if you see her, could you tell her we have to talk about something?"

"It's about the plea bargaining, isn't it?"

"You, too? I said and will say it again. My client pleads not guilty. If you see her...I'm rounding out my income by catering, ok?"

"Yes, captain Mcbride"

And, with a last grin, the commander turned gracefully and joined the crew, and began throwing bagels and giving out cups.


	8. Chapter 8

**Useless chpter, I know, but the handbook says "let tension grow", and who am I to contradict the handbook? But I swear, next chapter will be full and tasty!**

**So, thank you again for feedback and no, I don't own them. How many times will I have to repeat that?**

* * *

_I felt at ease in the darkness. Not that I was a "dark and dangerous" guy. I loved way too much the sun, the wind, I loved flying. But sometimes a man has to come to a compromise. And that seemed one of the best, given the situation. Still better than parachuting in enemy territory to ask the passers-by for information. I hadn't find out yet, who I had to thank for the bright idea, I thought while massaging my shoulder. Under the fabric, the mark of the bullet was still vivid. Too vivid, in my modest opinion._

1823 EST

MAC'S OFFICE

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH VIRGINIA

"According to Brown vs Virginia my client is not guilty. The contempt was cast upon an object not physically present"

"Yes, but your client is a seaman, and according to Uniform Code of Military Justice, his behaviour can be considered as bad example, as well as the beginning of a disrespectful conduct towards an officer"

Harm and Mac were coming out the elevator, after the day of shooting, when they were intercepted by a overexcited Bud, who had been waiting for them for quite a long time, apparently.

"But a flag is not a senior officer. And he was on leave, and drunk!"

"It isn't an acceptable justification. Bud! What are you doing here?"

"You really don't want to ask for seven years"

"Sir. Ma'am. I've the files you..."

"Today a joke, tomorrow he'll refuse obeying orders in action, you never know. Thanks, Bud"

"Don't, Ma'am. You don't understand. These are..."

"Maac! Mmm...it seems somebody preceded us" Harm announced, from his privileged point of view, while they were reaching the door. Not paying attention to the lieutenant, the commander took the files and placed them under his arm with hat and costume, and followed the colonel in her office.

"But...Sir..." Bud groaned to their backs.

This time, Webb had decided to sink behind Mac's desk, at the end of the day.

"Make yourself at home please, Webb" she barked. Her only desire would have been curling up and shutting the world out of the office.

"You could have told me you were waiting for a guest, Mac. I wouldn't have hold you back so long" was Harm's sarcastic remark, getting in the little room.

"How kind of you, Rabb! Goog evening to you, too, anyway"

At the moment Mac was tired, very tired, and didn't think she could bear even her partner's little jealousies, which, in other time and place, she could have well and truly appreciate.

Hardly holding back irritation and need for acetyl-salicylic acid – her migraine was dangerously rising – she hardly could hiss "Shut up, kids!", before letting herself fall against the closet.

"Mac! Are you feeling well?", Harm immediately asked, approaching her with very worried look. Even more irritating.

"No. I'm not well. All I want is going at home, drowning in my bathtub and forgetting the world under the blankets till tomorrow morning"

"But..."

"I'm fine. I'm not tainted. It's just...migraine is killing me. So, if Mr Webb would enlighten us about his presence and free us of the said..."

"Ok, ok, I didn't want to bother you. I was thinking the latest news could be of interest to you"

"Yeah..." Mac sighed "I'm sorry for the outburst. You're doing more than your duty requires, Webb, keeping us informed. It's just, I'm really tired" she said, at the same time begging, with the eyes, the commander next to her.

"Don't worry. I'll be short. Actually, there isn't much to talk about. At this moment, we only found out our man works in the administrative offices. At least, he certainly isn't in your office. But we will go on and follow the plan"

"What plan?"

"The movie" the CIA agent grinned.

"You are amusing yourself, aren't you?" Harm hissed, not reassured yet by his partner's explanation.

"Who? Me? Absolutely not. It's just a simple operation. Even though I'm finding out very interesting stuff, rummaging in your desks. Like this picture" he continued, lifting a frame, till then hidden in a drawer "it's, Rabb, awfully like that in your office, isn't it?"


	9. Chapter 9

**It took me way too long, but it was a way too huge chapter, and I was way too busy. I hope you'll like it! Let me know what do you think about it, please!**

**As usual...sigh...I don't own them...but hope is not ovverrated, is it?**

* * *

_I didn't know who I should have met, yet. He was a British connection, but who? At the bottom of my heart, I had kept hoping it would have been HER. But I knew it was impossible. For a moment, it came back to me, those summer days, under the grey and blue Normandy sky. She had found me, bleeding, and delirious I had mistaken her for an angel. She had been sent from the skies, in a certain sense. It was a pity that it was RAF, and not fate. And she hadn't wasted her time on pointing it out. In spite of the warm and rich voice, her approach had been, so too speak, quite straight. A soaked in disinfectant rag and a hand to be on my feet again, and off like a shot, toward a shack, secluded goodness knew where. Florence Nightingale, who? Two months, we had passed together, and about her I knew only the French origin and...the left hook. Never dream of a woman, when you share the rack with a counterespionage agent._

1000 EST

DAY 12

"THE LONG WINTER" SET

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH VIRGINIA

"Ok, folks. Till this moment we've been enjoying ourselves, but now we've work to do" Jake had been appointed Drill Sergeant, after the shouts and threats of the previous days. Nobody seemed to take offence, anyway: it looked like quite standard stuff, among the technicians.

"Easy, Jake!" Melanie, the newly elected Peacemaker, hissed "You're not Scorsese!"

"Ehm...maybe I let this thing get out of hand"

"Maybe"

"Don't worry, Jake" an unexpected voice supported him "after all, we're in the military. We take a perverse pleasure in being ordered. Kind of going back to boot camp"

"Yeah, right" an other voice, feminine, teased him "and tell me, Harm the Marvellous Soldier, when did you have to endure such a living hell, at Annapolis? When you lose a game of rugby and had to stand the gang a drink, didn't you?"

"I forgot you Marines think about the dirty job as your privilege. Wallowing in the mud and creeping along the ground under barbed wire, like real mean men. Semper FI, Colonel"

"Uh uh. Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed, this morning, didn't he? Or is it that you found out I have the verdict in my hands, at last?"

"Calm down, you two" Steven, the trio's Practical Mind, exclaimed "save yourselves for the shot"

Easy for him to say, but they both were definitely strained exactly _because of_ the movie. They had fulfilled their duty and more, and accomplished every kind of undercover ops, but they weren't actors, and the whole situation was turning out quite awkward.

The crew had gathered all around them by then, ready for the daily instructions, and the little squabble was immediately set aside. The weather seemed still clement, thus they had decided on finishing on location shooting, in spite of the prearranged timetable.

And this, in not so many words, meant scene 4. The along the Loire goodbye scene.

"Well. Are you ready?All of you? This morning we're dealing with one of the screenplay nerve centres. As you know, we left Captain McBride and his mysterious rescuer in the shack along the river. There, they spend two months: they don't find out a lot, about each other, but build a bond, a kind of, in that "interlude of peace on the fringe of battlefields. Have you got it, there?"

"Yeah, Jake!" Steven, rolling his eyes, scolded him "sometimes you look like an high school science teacher"

As soon as the laughters had decreased, Jake began to speak again, silently thanking his friend's contribution in loosening the tension.

"As I was saying, after two months, the Captain's wounds have healed, and the two of them have to part ways, just there, along the river, before going back to their respective duties. It should be the movie sappy climax" he went on, winking at Melanie, who probably had struggled, in order to win it "with the sunset and the whole chick flick package. Anyway, McBride and the mysterious woman cannot put into words what they're feeling, whatever it is they're feeling, and try and communicate those emotions and thoughts with a kiss, a little...awkward, for lack of a better word. But this is not enough. They miss their opportunity and part ways"

Harm and Mac had fallen silent during the whole explanation, paler and paler: it was simple to rationally accept the situation, but it was quite a different matter, having to get involved and in front of the whole office, which would have laughed at them forever. But that was duty, so they installed the action façade and got ready to follow their orders, pretending not to see the curious glances.

"Steven, as usual you'll deal with the shots. What do you have?"

"I think I'll leave an eye-level camera in front of them all the time long, I'll use the second one for close-ups and as for the third...I'll pan a little: scenery, backdrop, stuff..."

"Always the swot"

"In all modesty..."

"You, Melanie, will deal with their performances, right?"

"Being the only one having studied acting, in here...and you, dear Jake, what should you do? That is, there isn't a lot left..."

"I shout "Action", what do you think?"

"Uh uh" his friends grinned, nodding. They were a good team, and that little assigning roles routine, even if useless, had become their propitiatory ritual.

"Well. Harm. Mac. With me" Melanie sprang up, leading them some feet away from the crowd, in order to refresh their lines.

Some moments later, the cameras were set and the crew quiet, at last, ready to begin.

"Ehm...can I ask something?" Harriet's faltering voice rose "I know, it's silly, but I was wondering...if the scene takes place in the sunset, why are you shooting now, at 1000?"

"We'll add the sunset later, with MAIA"

"..."

"CGI, Computer-Generated Imagery"

"But...so, even the river..."

Melanie shot an understanding glance at her, while Jake, handling with care the clapboard, dryly shouted.

"Ready? "The long winter". Scene 4/1. Action"

_Ready _was definitely not the right word. Harm and Mac turned towards each other. Silently stared for a long moment. And convulsively burst out laughing.

Not getting discouraging, Jake stopped the shooting, showed Steven something and let everybody set again, before perching on his director's chair and shouting again.

" "The long winter". Scene 4/2. Action"

A long silence, again. That time Harm succeeded in not looking at Mac's eyes and concealing his expression. "Well..."

"STOOOP"

Stunned and a little shaken, the two of them turned towards Jake.

"Don't...don't. Melanie, could you explain, please?"

"Of course" the girl maternally hastened "Harm, I know it's awkward but...practically...you should look at Mac while talking. That is...we've a camera behind Mac that frames you, and if we don't see your expression, shooting is useless"

"Sorry. I didn't know..."

"Don't worry, no problem. That is, with digital technologies and all we don't even waste film, and you two are not professionals. It's understandable. And as for you, Mac, could you not giggle, please? That is...we can see it"

This time, it was Harm that stared at her with a grin: a blushing marine was definitely not everyday stuff.

"Are we ready?"

At Jake's always imperturbable call, Harm, Mac and the crew regained the previous positions.

"Ok? "The long winter". Scene 4/3. Action"

Silence. Gaze.

"Well..."

"So"

"It looks like we've to say goodbye"

"Goodbye"

"STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPP"

Now almost scared, the two aspiring actors immediately turned towards Jake, while Harm encircling Mac's waist with a protective arm.

That, of course, didn't go unnoticed by the present company.

"You're mechanical. You're false. That isn't the Christmas rhyme, that is a dialogue!"

"Wait, Jake" Melanie meddled in his outburst, fearing a further worsening "Mac. Harm. You're doing well. That is...no one expects you to perform an Academy Award acting. Jake is only suggesting you...practically...you should put a little of yourselves in what you're saying"

"..."

"I didn't make myself understood. Well...you have to think about your lives, ok? Try and remember a time when you had to say goodbye to a person you cared for, you loved, maybe. That is, it happened to you, didn't it?" Unbeknown to her, the two officers' minds were looking back at other memories, other goodbyes "try and remember what your feelings were. Practically, try and relive those emotions, those sensations, while you're saying your lines. You don't need to go so far as to suffer, you don't have to. Only, think about that, ok?" satisfied with their vague nodding, Melanie went back to her spot at the set side and suggested Jake to insert the storyteller intro, in order to help everybody in visualizing the moment.

"But wasn't it settled you would not not need me till dubbing?" a worried voice asked.

"Sturgis?!" Ham incredulously cried out "YOU, would it be you, the storyteller?!"

"Yes" the commander answered, a little hurt "it so happens that I have a "documentary voice"..." and, more doubtful, went on "even though I really don't know: is it either a compliment or an insult?"

"Yes, Sturgis" Melanie went on, after a last advice from Jake "but now we only need you in order to help their acting" nodding to Mac and Harm "that is, we won't record anything now. You will repeat everything later, when we'll deal with the audio bridge"

"Ok" Sturgis sighed, taking a seat with his script "if I have to..."

Only those that really knew him would have noticed, seeing him sitting with his back unnaturally stiff and his fists clenched around the crumpled pages, the tension he was trying and hiding with useless sarcastic remarks.

"Steven, can we have some detail shot of their hands? And a filter, maybe, to soften a little the light? In my opinion the clouds aren't quite enough, this morning"

Steven moved some devices of lighting, straightened a camera and made a sign. Thumbs up, they could start again.

"Let's hope for the best" Jake whispered " "The long winter". Scene 4/4. Action"

"Silence. In that moment preceding sunset, when you can hear the wind rustling and the river lazily murmuring, two shapes stood out on the bank, dark against the rosy blade escaping the impending clouds. Their shadows were lengthening and chasing, in the fast decline of the sun. Silence measured the space between them, making even heavier the words, the thoughts they would have need to share" Sturgis, with an unusual warm voice, said.

"Well..."

"So"

"A flock of swallows slowly covered the leaden sky, little restless dots looking for a place to call Home. Among the high stalks of the grass, shiny because of the rain, crickets sang their gloomy melody, promising stars that, at night, wouldn't have roused, there over the sky"

"It looks like we have to say goodbye"

"Two gazes met, carefully. You could have read pain in those eyes, you could have read regret, you could have read awe, and maybe even..."

"Goodbye"

"Goodbye"

"Can I...hug you?" the Captain sadly smiled, remembering a little misunderstanding of their first days as "co-residents".

The woman didn't answered, but intertwined, almost desperately, her arms around his neck, while a cold tear dug into her skin.

"I have so much I want to say to you, I just can't find the words"

"I know. I know"

Hidden, even the Captain had blurred eyes. He didn't want to let her go. Not that way. He freed himself from the embrace, enough to perceive her face and make her see, somehow or other, that he was feeling the same emotions.

"With his thumb" Sturgis, at that point, continued "he wiped away the tears streaking her cheekbone. With his lips, he tasted the salty, bitter drops drying up the corner of her mouth. With the heart, they both forgot, even if for a lonely moment, the river, the war and the world"

"STOP! STOP! I SAID STOOOP"

Shaken, snatched from the wave of memory, Harm and Mac reluctantly parted. One foot. Just in order to breath again. Was it a dream, reality, a past life, a wonderful performance? Was it really them?

"Good. Keep this shot. Let's have a break"

End of the magic.

"Mac?" Harm asked, avoiding her eyes.

"Yeah?" she shortly answered, with a fragile voice.

"Would you...would you come with me, just for a moment, please?"

"Of course, but..." then, reading the silent warning in his partner's gestures, she followed him towards a bench at the other end of the garden.

After a bunch of minutes, the two of them were sat on the cold slab of light granite. Mac tried and hide, without any luck, a shiver. November was showing impatience. The fast North wind had painted the maples leaves that now was plucking like feathers, angrily. She could hear their moaning. Moaning? Mac, feeling uneasy, tried and automatically straightened her uniform, only then remembering she was wearing the worn-out dark skirt her costume was made of. That, and a dusty scarf she hastened undoing, hopelessly trying and tidying her hair. It was Harm that broke the uneasy silence, after a moment. From goodness knew where, he had showed a bright folder.

"Ehm" he cleared his throat, roughly snatching Mac from her considerations "do you remember the files Bud gave me yesterday?"

"Yes, but..."

"They were the JAG staff files. At the moment i didn't realize it...he succeeded in clearing all of the classified records and screening the suspect ones"

"Poor Bud. He probably worked all the night long!"

"Yeah" he guiltily answered "like ourselves tonight, anyway"

"What?"

"Do you know how many candidates we are talking about?"

"Let me guess. All but you, me, the Admiral, Sturgis and the Roberts?"

"No. Bud rejected even Admiral Morris, Tiner and Galindez"

"Uh uh"

"That makes..." quickly counting the names on the list "more or less 320 people"

"What?! Really?"

"Surprise. Anyway, we won't check on everybody. This morning I struck out those that physically didn't gain access to the information. If Tiner's wastepaper basket always remained there, of course"

"Of course. So?"

"So, we have only 83 lives to dissect"

"Wow. It will took really all the night long"

"Fear?" Harm asked, challenging her.

"Never"


End file.
